Another One bites the dust

This past Saturday we went to probably one of the most beautiful weddings (aside from ours of course) that we have been to in a long time. The bride was gorgeous, the groom was handsome and they have what I think makes for a long happy life together, shtick and a great sense of humor…something Phil and I always had and no one ever truly got. One other thing this couple has in common with us? The bride is Russian and the groom is American hence the title of this post.

I’m gonna guess that the poor guy never stood a chance. I’m sure I will get a lot of slack for this post but here goes anyway and since I speak from experience, I hope I’ll come across as somewhat of an expert. My husband Phil, an American, was convinced that for the first few month even years of our relationship, I was drugging him. He was a self-proclaimed bachelor, liked it and was going to keep it that way forever until… we met, he fell in love and the rest as they say is История.

I’m going to guess that this is what happened to the groom who has now been lovingly welcomed into the bride’s life. The spectacular wedding was a symbol of things to come and while it’s ok, even great that they come from completely different worlds, they are totally different.

Russian women like it over the top; only the best, the biggest and the most impressive will do. We will love you unconditionally on two conditions; you adore us and remember the “best” “biggest” and “impressive” part promising to never hold that against us. Maybe it’s because we are raised with the highest of expectations from everyone and the pressure of being the best at everything all without a hair out of place and lipstick immaculately applied. Maybe that’s what makes us expect the same from others and, as you can imagine, sets us up for a lifetime of well…seeking the grandiose lifestyle that is oftentimes unrealistic. Whatever the reason, the Russian culture and it is a culture is unlike any other good or bad and Russian women are a true testament to that.

Different worlds were represented throughout the wedding; bottles of beer vs bottles of Patron, pigs in a blanket vs. black caviar, Diamonique vs diamonds and of course the all telling DJ vs. European band that doesn’t actually play any of their instruments but looks and sounds really impressive.

It was beautiful, it was special, and it was the perfect occasion to wear my new St. John dress, Chanel bag and mink stole.

The women were gorgeous, some thanks to recent plastic surgery but in general due to new hair, make-up and designer duds. The Curtis Center sparkled in crystals, candles and white curtains ala the Delano bearing little resemblance to the place where Phil and I took our wedding pictures over 10 years ago.

We drank, we ate and we danced until the band succumbed to the fact that they were not fooling anyone and switched over to DJ mode. All of this made me want to have another wedding and everything that comes with it; the dress, the party, the honeymoon, the presents but not the pain in the a– bridal party and seating list…those still haunt me.
In the end, I was glad to be a guest at this gorgeous celebration and was even more grateful to have my handsome husband by my side, whom I can honestly say I never drugged but sometimes, when he forgets the 3 rules above, wish I could (-:

Lot’s of Mazel to the Bride and Groom and if you’re reading this, tell me I’m wrong?!